Osiris: Into the Game
by Tirade
Summary: Continuation of my other Osiris stories, this one takes place immediately after Homecoming. Only on two chapters so far, more to come soon.
1. Chapter 1

Highlander: Osiris  
Into the Game  
Chapter 1  
  
My love cried out as the bringer of death arose. His servant stood behind him, holding up his deadly staff. Anubis, the jackal god, stared at me, and crossed his arms against his chest.  
  
His servant raised the 'was' staff, and with a smooth motion, separated the jackal's head from his human body.  
  
Shesmu had murdered his master.  
  
I heard myself screaming as death died. My own scimitar was useless. I cast it aside.  
  
And in its place...  
  
  
  
River's fingers intertwined with mine and squeezed gently. "We're almost home." she said, "We'll be landing any minute."  
  
My eyes snapped wide open, taking in everything at once. The inflight movie had long since run out. I was sitting by the aisle, River was next to me, and Forrest had the window seat. My little plastic cup had a small puddle in it that had once been ice.  
  
My throat was dry, so I drained it, then handed it to a passing flight attendant.  
  
"Good." I managed to grunt back at River, "It will be good to be home."  
  
Forrest turned from his window seat. "Home?"  
  
It took me a moment to catch the question. Then I shook my head. "The nile banks may have been home to me once. They've changed as much as I have over the last two thousand years."  
  
Two thousand years.  
  
My mind flickered back to my dream for a moment.  
  
It wasn't right. I killed Anubis. I took his head. I killed Anubis.  
  
While Shesmu watched. If Shesmu had helped his master, both would still be alive. Shesmu had killed his master. Shesmu could have easily stepped in and stopped me. But he didn't.  
  
He was too power-hungry. He was hoping to kill me during the quickening.  
  
Then he would have taken my power... and his master's power. Instead, because of his greed, I took the power of both of them. Both evil immortals. Both power-hungry...  
  
And I had their power. But not their hunger.  
  
  
  
I fumbled with a lock that appeared to be older than me. Of course, appearances are deceiving. After a good deal of scraping at rust, and a sharp twist of the key, it finally loosened enough for my immortal strength to pull it open. The doors to the warehouse cracked open, and I pulled them the rest of the way.  
  
For the moment, I was alone. River had to be back at her college right now, and her uncle was off somewhere doing his archaeological work. Most likely I would not see him before he went back to Egypt. But right now, I needed to find my old workshop.  
  
Light shone in through the open door for the first time in quite a while. The small but sturdy warehouse had been converted, more than half a century ago. I had converted it into a small workshop.  
  
While I am by no means a master blacksmith, weapon repair is something any immortal will learn over the years. I spent the next three days only leaving the shop at night, heading back to the nearest hotel for sleep and food. The first thing I did was to clean and repair my weapons. My scimitar took half of the first day, and my katana the rest. The next day was spent repairing and cleaning all of the smaller weapons.  
  
The third day I spent making weapons. Something I hadn't done in a long time.  
  
By the end of the day I had a stockpile of sheaves, stars, knives, and anything else I could conceivably lose in a fight.  
  
I spent half of the fourth day polishing and sharpening my new weapons. Then I went home.  
  
For now, home was my apartment in New York. It was roomy, something few people in New York can claim. But few people in New York had been there in the 1800s, when New York was still young.  
  
And few people in New York needed room to store and practice with weapons.  
  
  
With my scimitar and wakasashi under my coat, three sheaves on my left wrist, and a carbon-bladed knife that could pass through a metal detector on my right, I felt safe enough for now.  
  
New York has changed a lot in the last few decades. Muggings and murders aren't as common as they once were.  
  
Still, with a population as large as New York City... on any given island you can find a minimum of a half-dozen immortals at any time.  
  
And most of them would lust after the head of a 2,500 year old immortal.  
  
I sensed my first almost immediately after I had settled into my apartment. I arrived in the late afternoon the first day, and spent most of my time cleaning, then after dinner, practicing. My weapons left several marks on the concrete pillars in my living space.  
  
Most people would have complained that they took up too much room. Three huge pillars in the middle of the living space. But to me, it was perfect. I simply put padding on them, and used them as practice dummies.  
  
It was the next morning when I sensed the presence of another immortal. Somewhere down below me, in the teeming mass that was the sidewalk, or the slow-moving line of vehicles that was the road... somewhere down there was an immortal.  
  
And if I could sense him or her from this distance, they were probably powerful enough to sense me too. My experienced eyes picked out a few likely candidates from the mass of people... anyone who appeared to stop and look up was a possible immortal.  
  
Finally one drew my attention. He was not only looking up, but once he seemed to find what he was looking for, he stood at the base of my building, appearing to mentally mark the address and building for future reference.  
  
Well, at least it was a he. I still have trouble fighting and killing women immortals. Call me old-fashioned, but I'm still used to fighting against men. Perhaps in this day and age that kind of attitude would be considered sexist.  
  
But you try living through the victorian era without developing such an attitude. Not so easy, now is it?  
  
Unfortunately, I had not thought to keep a pair of high-powered binoculars in my apartment before I'd left. I could not see his face. All I saw was that he had dark hair... long, short, curly, straight, I couldn't tell. His skin could have been any color except black... he could have been irish or arabic for all I knew. But he wore a long coat, and he had been checking out my building. That was enough to label him as an immortal for now.  
  
He'll be back. And if he wants my head... then I won't run. It's time for me to get back into the game. 


	2. Chapter 2

Highlander: Osiris  
Into the Game  
Chapter 2  
  
  
That night, as I slept, I sensed the presence of another immortal. Not as powerful as the demons I had been dreaming about recently, but another immortal nonetheless. I could sense her... almost inside my head.  
  
Her? Yes. A woman. She could have been standing over my bed, or she could have been on the other side of the world. I couldn't sense her in the same way I sense most immortals. All I knew was that there was an immortal out there... and we touched.  
  
I'd never felt that before. I'd never heard of that before.  
  
Then I could see her. She was a shadow. I could feel her calling out to me. Her voice was... almost a gently whisper of tears. She was afraid. She drew closer, and right as the light was about to come on her face, my eyes snapped open. All I saw now was the ceiling above my bed. I could tell by my own internal clock that the horizon should be lightening with the coming daylight, but with all the lights of the city, that doesn't happen very often.  
  
Knowing that I could not fall asleep after that, I sat up in bed and got dressed. It was a bit cold in my apartment, but I could handle it. After the heat of the egyptian day, and the cold of the desert night, a little New York cold was no problem.  
  
  
For some reason I couldn't stay put. I knew I should wait and see if the immortal from the previous day would come back, but I just needed to get out. So I went. Foregoing my light blue jacket that I usually wear, I had a tan trenchcoat. Much better in the cold, and it had much more room for weapons. I didn't take all that many, though. Just a scimitar on my back, three sheaves on my left wrist, and a knife on my right.  
  
Just because I'm getting back into the game doesn't mean I'm willing to forget all of the caution I've learned over the last two thousand years.  
  
As I walked, I let my mind wander. Thousands of years have given me a kind of loose focus... I can let my mind wander, and yet still be in complete control of what is around me.  
  
I could sense the people around me. Swarming masses of mortals. Out there must be immortals as well, but none were near enough to sense.  
  
Until eventually I came back to my apartment building again. I saw the same man standing there, looking around.  
  
Trying to match a face with his immortal sense.  
  
Realizing that he didn't know which direction I was in, only that I was near, I started to circle around. Eventually, I joined the flow of pedestrian traffic and started to come up from behind him. He sensed where I was now, but refused to turn to look. After I passed him, he started to walk with the crowd, trying to find me.  
  
This part of New York may have changed a bit, but not that much. I knew where we could find privacy. I simply turned down an alley, then walked through a doorframe that had once held a sturdy locked door. Inside, it was fairly quiet. The building was not large. But it was abandoned.  
  
I simply stood in the middle of the building and waited. I could sense him outside. He was debating whether it was safe to follow me or not.  
  
He was simply a headhunter. Not nearly as old or skilled as I, but hoping to defeat enough immortals to become more powerful, like me.  
  
Well, if he decided to face me, he would not get his wish.  
  
Soon enough he finally decided to follow me. Had there not been people in every direction, he could have tried something cute... like skulking around until he found another entrance, or coming in through a window and trying to surprise me.  
  
He walked through the door I came in.  
  
I stood in the center of the room and watched as he came in. He was about as non-descript as you can get. The kind of immortal who will blend in with any crowd. White, but dark enough to pass as a hispanic or perhaps even a dark-skinned italian. Dark hair, not black, but not brown. I wasn't close enough to see his eye color, but I assumed they were a simple blue or brown. He spoke, "I don't know who you are, but I just wanted to see for myself."  
  
"You've seen.", I replied. "Now what?"  
  
He was young. Perhaps he'd only just recently found that he was immortal, and had gotten lucky and taken a head or two already. He didn't know much about the game.  
  
He pulled out a sword. Surprisingly, it was a thick rapier, not the kind of sword most immortals choose to carry. As he moved, I saw inside his jacket a bulge that was most likely a short sword or long knife. Probably a machete or something like it, to take the heads that his rapier couldn't take.  
  
I nodded. "Interesting...", then pulled out my own blade.  
  
Something inside me felt odd as we faced off... something I hadn't felt in a long time. Long-lost warrior instincts flared up, and as he charged, I whipped out my scimitar and slapped his blade aside with a smooth motion. I could have slashed him in the back, but something inside me held back.  
  
A part of me simply wanted to toy with him.  
  
Taking stock of my larger weapon, he reached inside his coat with his left hand and pulled out his large knife. It was an unfamiliar make to me, but it was somewhere between a machete and a butcher knife. He lunged at me with his rapier, and as I blocked it, he swung his knife at me, which I managed to block as well on my scimitar.  
  
Surprised, he pulled back, then tried another attack combination.  
  
I blocked everything he threw at me, without flinching. He ran in circles around me testing my defenses, and just to toy with him I didn't move. My feet and waist stayed steady. Only my upper body moved. Finally I couldn't stand waiting any longer, and as I blocked his rapier, I kicked out, knocking it from his hand. My left hand grabbed his, and with a twist I broke his wrist. His knife clattered to the ground.  
  
Perhaps in the old days I would have let someone that much weaker than me live. But I hadn't been taken by this kind of blood-lust. I'd never taken the head of an insane god before.  
  
"There can be only one." I said, "And apparently you are not it."  
  
My scimitar came down with one quick motion.  
  
  
His quickening had been weak, and unfullfilling. I wanted more.  
  
But there was no more to be found. I went back to my apartment, and curled back up in bed. I could use a few more hours of sleep. 


End file.
